


P.I.E Oneshots

by Johnny__Ghost



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), VenturianTale Characters (Web Series)
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Blood and Injury, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gang Violence, Ghosts, Gun Violence, Guns, Head Injury, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Knives, Major Character Injury, Other, Pansexual Character, Paranormal Investigators, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26355334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnny__Ghost/pseuds/Johnny__Ghost
Summary: Short stories based on the P.I.E characters, occasional OCs included, and sometimes mixed with other fandoms (Usually Sanders Sides)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Panic Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my first story on here, and while it’s not my best work, I think it’s good enough to post. it still is technically a P.I.E story, it’s not just with the canon characters. The new characters are based on the same concept as Sanders Sides, it’ll probably be easier to understand if you’ve watched it, but it’s not a requirement. I’ll give a basic rundown of the new characters, but I am currently working on a more detailed version.
> 
> Matt- represents morality, along with general feelings, and childlike qualities 
> 
> Lane- represents logic, intelligence, and a sense of reason
> 
> Chiron- represents ‘good’ creativity, passion, and sometimes romantic feelings
> 
> Zero- represents anxiety, and the fight or flight response
> 
> Raven- represents deceit, and self preservation
> 
> Ramon- represents ‘bad’ creativity, that is usually suppressed, and comes out through intrusive or unwanted thoughts
> 
> They’re all Ghost’s sides, and look slightly different, mostly through eye color, but other than that, they just act differently according to their jobs. Enjoy! Warnings: Panic Attacks, obviously. Mentions of Violence, and gore. Say it if I should add more

They noticed at the same time. It was a subtle feeling, but they knew not to ignore it. A small spark, that died out before they knew it, but the smoke continued to spread. As if burning them from the inside out.  
They’d been going through their normal routine, sitting around the TV, none of them really paying attention, but the background noise was comforting, as was the quiet conversation that would start, and fizzle out within a few seconds. Chiron was the first to notice, freezing mid sentence, his eyes going wide. He’d always been good at detecting those things, although none of them knew why. Matt was the second, feeling it right after he saw Chiron freeze. Lane had looked up from his book, about to ask what happened, when he felt it too. He sprang into action immediately, wanting to minimize the effect. “I’ll make sure Ghosts ok, you two go check on the others. Figure out what the problem is, if you can.” He said, before sinking into the real world.

Ghost was at his feet, curled into a ball, with a hand over his mouth. Lane surveyed their surroundings, they were in his room, the door closed and locked, but he knew Toast was there. He’d get him as a last resort, and go from there if they needed to take further action. Right now he needed to calm Ghost down, in any way he could. He wasn’t particularly good with comforting people, but he had to try, searching his mind for anything helpful as he sat next to his host. Fear pushed at the back of his mind, scattering his thoughts, but he forced himself to focus. He needed too. For the sake of himself, and everyone else. “You-..you need to breathe. Breathe with me, ok?” He said, his voice shaky and quiet. Ghost stared at him, and the look in his eyes sent a chill up his spine. Lane forced his voice to sound calm. “Move your hand.” Ghost obeyed, the choking breath, hitching and shaking, that he’d been muffling piercing the silence. “Good, now breathe with me. In through your nose-“ He inhaled, and his host slowly followed. “And out through your mouth.” He exhaled, and again, Ghost followed. “Good, keep going, with me.” They repeated the process, progress painfully slow, but he knew eventually it would be over. Hopefully Chiron and Matt could speed it up by helping the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Matt froze after Lane left, but once the words sunk in, he stood, and raced upstairs, Chiron at his heels. They reached Zero’s room in record time, and Matt pushed the door open with no hesitation. The room was dark, no light on the ceiling, and the only window covered with thick curtains. Ignoring the amplified effects of the room, he rushed straight to the figure hunched over on the bed, who flinched, and scrambled backwards with a yelp. Matt stayed at a distance, his hands outstretched. “Hey. It’s ok, it’s just me.” He said, trying to sound reassuring.

He looked at Chiron in the doorway, and motioned for him to leave. Chiron hesitated for a moment, before racing away to the other side of the mind palace. Matt turned his attention back to Zero, who had curled into a ball as far from him as possible, his nails digging into his palms. “It’s ok. I’m here to help, just take a deep breath.” He whispered.

He did nothing, and Matt frowned. “Please.”

Reluctantly, he did so, and Matt counted the seconds with him, knowing he knew what to do. “Again.” He said, and Zero obeyed.

After a few more times, he stopped. “..the...my room,..you can’t-“

Matt stopped him. “Don’t worry. I’m fine, just keep breathing. Lane is dealing with Ghost, and Chiron with the others. They’ll be fine.” He said.  
Reassuring him as he pushed away the fear that forced it’s way inside of him. Focusing only on helping his friend calm down.

Finally, after what had to be the longest half hour of their lives, Zero was finally calm enough to speak. Although he was still shaking, his eyes darting around the room, Matt decided that he would be able to explain what happened. He was Ghosts anxiety after all, he had to know, if Lane couldn’t get it out of Ghost, which was likely. ”....hey, Zero?” He said quietly, still unsure of how to proceed, but knowing he needed too. Zero jumped, and looked up, and Matt winced.  
“...yeah?”

“Um...do..you know why....?” He searches for the words, but came up with nothing.

Zero understood what he meant, however, and shook his head slowly. “....no.”

Matt blinked. “What?” The fear he’d been holding back pushed against his skull, much heavier and darker then before. He assumed it was because of the room, although he hadn’t noticed until now. His breath became shallow, and he balled his hands into fists. Zero was the embodiment of anxiety, he was supposed to know everything there was to know about it. At the very least, he almost always knew what caused an attack. The only times he didn’t was when one of them was the cause....

Matt bit his lip, and crosses his fingers, hoping that Chiron had gotten to the other side in time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chiron ran through the maze of hallways that separated both sides of the mind palace for what seemed like forever. More than once, he’d lost his balance, or forgotten which way to go, having to just choose a path, and hope it was the right one. The steadily dimming lights didn’t help either, eventually disappearing entirely, and forcing him to slow down and use his other senses to find the way, or atleast avoid running face first into the wall. Finally, he saw a dim light ahead, and sped up again to reach it.  
The ground tipped out from under him, and he threw his arms out to catch himself, but never hit the ground. He was back firmly on his feet before he noticed Raven infront of him. 

“Uh....th-..thank you..” He said awkwardly, catching his breath.

It was odd, he never usually got so out of breath from running, even with the distance he’d gone, but the fear that clouded his mind probably had something to do with it.

“Where’s Ramon?” He asked, and Raven eyed him, his eery gaze piercing through the dim lighting.

That was one thing Chiron envied about the dark sides. They could see in the dark. He couldn’t count how many times that would’ve helped him. It certainly would’ve been useful running through pitch black hallways like a madman, and barely stopping himself from breaking his nose.

“Why? Is Zero not the one causing it?” Raven asked, suspicious.

“No-, well, he might be, Matt’s dealing with him if he is, but he wanted me to check on you guys.” He said, and Raven nodded, although he was obviously trying to hide the fact that he was scared too.

He pointed to a blood red door on the other side of the room, and Chiron went straight to it.

“The doors locked.” He said, fear making his voice shaky.

“What?” Raven said. “The door is locked.” He repeated, and Raven went over to him, trying the door himself, and being very unsuccessful in hiding his distress when it didn’t open.

“Shit.”

Chiron banged on the door, unsure if his franticness was caused by the residual fear from Ghost, or from him actually being concerned about his brother.

“Ramon!? Are you in there? Are you ok?” No response.

He pressed his ear to the door, wondering if it had just been too quiet. At first, he heard nothing, until a hitching sound came from the other side.  
“Ramon..?” He whispered. 

Raven shoved him out of the way, and listened.

Then he stood. “Ramon, if your infront of the door, move. Now.” He said firmly, and kicked the door full force.

His foot bounced off, and Chiron felt himself freaking out.

“What the hell?! You can’t just kick open the door! You could hurt him, or yourself, or-“ Raven ignored him, and kicked the door harder.

There was a cracking sound, and Chiron didn’t have time to wonder if it was the door, or Raven’s ankle breaking before he did it again, and again. Chiron was about to scream at him again, when the door flew open, and Raven rushed inside.  
Startled and dumbfounded, Chiron followed him, and froze when he saw his brother on the floor, curled into a ball, shaking. His first thought was that he’d been hurt by the door, like he’d feared, but he was nowhere near it. Raven rushed over to him, freezing a few feet away. Chiron ran over, and froze too, as he heard Ramon mumbling to himself, and saw the tears streaming down his face. He snapped out of it, though, and crouched next to him, his hand halfway to touching him, before he stopped, thinking better of it, and instead trying to cut through the haze. “H...hey, Ramon, you.. you need to calm down, I-“ Ramon interrupted him with a harsh laugh, that turned into a hysterical giggle, which Ramon tried, and failed, to muffle with his hands.  
“Calm down!? Yeah, yeah, I’ll just do that, no problem.” He said, forcing the words through his teeth.

Chiron flinched, feeling the fear from before, that he’d managed to fight through, push back into him, and fill his head. He hunched over next to his brother, and his mind went blank. Filled with nothing but mindless terror, that built up inside him until his skull felt like it would pop. Blood pounded in his ears, and his vision went fuzzy. He could vaguely hear Raven approach him, but whatever he was trying to say sounded like he was infront of a fan, gargling a mouthful of water. Before he knew what happened, he was flat on his back, the world spinning above him, before going black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zero paced back and forth in the dimly lit room, biting his thumb, as the others watched him. Well, more accurately, Matt was watching him to make sure he was ok, Lane was interrogating Ghost, who fidgeted the whole time, and could barely pay attention, Raven was standing awkwardly next to the couch, to restless to sit down, but not sure what else to do, Ramon was sitting on the couch, next to Lane, his head in his hands, and finally Chiron was laying on the coffee table in the center of them, a thin blanket being the only cushioning between him and the hard wood.

After Matt calmed him down, they heard a shout from across the mind palace, and instantly ran toward it. Well, really Zero had jumped up, ran full speed, almost falling on his face multiple times, before Matt finally caught up to him, and got him to slow down. Once they reached the dark side of the mind palace, Raven tried to explain what happened, but Zero took in none of it. Solely focused on the scene infront of him.

Chiron and Ramon were laying almost completely still, side by side. He wasn’t as worried about Ramon, who’d experienced that sort of thing before, and besides the whole unconscious thing, he didn’t look too bad. Chiron, however, had no experience with it. Infact, Zero didn’t think he’d ever even seen him unconscious, unless sleeping counted. He was much paler than normal, and even more startling, he couldn’t see him breathing. He looked almost dead. White noise filled Zero’s senses, and he stared for what seemed like hours. He vaguely noticed Matt trying desperately to help, sending Raven away, to get Lane. Once they got there, Lane helped Matt lift up Chiron, Ramon waking up just in time to follow them into the real world. Zero finally snapped out of it when Raven left too, and sunk out after them.

They’d quickly decided to bring Chiron down into the living room so they all could watch him, and that’s where they were now. Waiting for him to wake up. Lane had finally stopped questioning Ghost, and now they just waited in silence, Zero feeling like the walls were getting closer with every step he took. Blood filled his mouth, and he winced, instantly shoving his thumb into his pocket, less bothered by the pain, then the suffocating smell of metal blocking out everything else.  
He glanced at the clock, 5:36 AM, and then at the stairs, before finally breaking the silence.  
“We should tell Toast.” He said, and everyone in the room jumped, besides Chiron, who lay eerily still.

”..why? It’s not like he could help.” Ghost said, half glaring at him for startling them. Zero stared resolutely at the floor, searching for the right words, and half hoping he wouldn’t find them.  
Lane answered for him. “He’s right. Even if he can’t help, he should know as soon as possible if one of us is hurt. And on the off chance he can help, it wouldn’t be wise to wait until morning.”

Ghost glared at him next, but although he obviously wanted too, he didn’t protest. Just turned his glare to the floor, and ignored them. Lane stood up, and walked swiftly up the stairs, his footsteps louder than normal, not cautious of the noise he was making, as he was trying to wake up Toast, instead of keep him asleep.  
“Watch him not be up there.” Ramon said scornfully, the first thing he’d said since he woke up. They all turned to him, Matt clearly about to say something, when Lane came back down the stairs, much more annoyed then before, and went straight to the kitchen without stopping.

Ramon snorted, and Zero rolled his eyes.  
After a loud shuffle, and a muffled argument, Lane dragged Toast out of the kitchen, stumbling and dizzy, dropped him by the door, went back inside, came out with a cup filled with water, and poured it out onto him. Toast shrieked, and they snickered at him, Lane standing over him, smirking, with his arms crossed.

Toast glared up at him. “What was that for!?” He said. “It’s not even morning yet!” 

”Actually, it’s 6:15, so yes, it is morning.” Lane said. “And I’m sure this is much better then sleeping on the kitchen floor.”

Toast looked away. “Whatever.” He said, slowly pushing himself up, and looking around the room.

He froze when he saw Chiron, and Zero couldn’t help but notice how silly he looked. His face all serious, and worried, but it lost the effect with his hair sticking up in every direction, him leaning against the wall, with whiskey stains on his shirt.

“What happened?” He asked.

Zero looked at the ground, and he could guess that everyone else was doing the same, reluctant to say anything. After all, the story wasn’t exactly easy to tell. First, they would have to confess to having a panic attack, which was hard enough on it’s own. Then they’d have to explain what caused it, and what happened because of it, which would spell out exactly how bad it was. Even more difficult. While the room was silent with all the sides, and Ghost, stubbornly avoiding eye contact, Zero noticed the slight discoloration in his hoodie pocket, and tensed.  
His hoodie was black, making it very difficult to see anything on it unless it was lighter then it, and on top of that, it was very much dark, but he’d grown accustomed to seeing in the dark, having lived in the dark side of the mind palace for a long time. He glanced around, and then turned away from the others, before pulling out his hand, and breathing in sharply from the blood on his fingers, immediately regretting it, as the smell forced it’s way into his nose. Silently gagging, he shoved his hand back, and turned back to face the others, hoping none of them had noticed.

Lane was currently explaining the situation to Toast, having been the first to speak again, and Toast frowned deeply as the story ended. He stayed with them, waiting, and talking quietly with them. All the while Zero tried to sink back further into the shadows. He was fairly good at that, but the throbbing in his hand was distracting him. He would wait until Chiron woke up, and then sink back into the mind palace without them even noticing. Once he was done with his hand, he would come back and they wouldn’t have even noticed he left. That was the plan, anyway, but it was easier said then done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was past noon when Chiron finally woke up, most of the sides, and Ghost, had left by then, and Ramon couldn’t have been more relieved. However rocky their relationship was, he did care about his brother, and it was his fault he was like that in the first place. No matter how many times he’d fantasized about hog tying him and throwing him into a wood chipper. He felt himself wanting to giggle at the thought, but the pounding headache in his skull forced him to choke it down. Toast, Matt, and Lane were talking to Chiron when he recovered.  
“Can you hear me?” Lane asked steadily, practically shoving the other two out of the way.  
Chiron nodded. “um,..yeah, what-“

Lane interrupted him with another question.”What about your eyes? Can you see ok?” 

Chiron nodded again. “Yes, but-“

”Are you hurting anywhere?” Lane said, ignoring him.

This went on for a while, Chiron eventually giving up, and letting Lane continue checking him over, no matter how annoyed it obviously made him. Ramon was wondering when his brothers would finally explode, imagining him actually exploding, and spreading his guts all over the table, when Lane finally seemed to be done.

”Now that your done, what ha-“

Lane cut him off. “I’m sure your wondering what happened.”

Chiron glared at him, and Ramon grinned. He zoned out as Lane explained, daydreaming, until the very end, when something caught him attention.

“-After that, we just waited here for you to wake up....I’m not really sure why it happened though, Raven just said you passed out, do you remember anything before that?”Lane said.

Chiron looked away, thinking. “.. I got to the dark side, and saw Raven, and I asked him where Ramon was.-“ He began, and Ramon tensed, starring at the floor.

“-He said he was in his room, but the door was locked, and I think he panicked when I told him, because, like an IDIOT, he kicked down the door, and we saw him...” He paused, and Ramon felt him looking at him as he continued. “...He was on the floor, and I went over to help him.....but that’s all I remember...”

Ramon wished he could disappear. Well, technically he could, but sinking back into the mind palace probably wouldn’t help him avoid the conversation. It would just delay it, and that might be worse. 

“..Ramon, do you know why he passed out?” Lane asked, and Ramon pulled his knees to his chest.

”Ramon.” Lane said firmly. “Tell us. Now.”

“I don’t know, he had a stroke.” Ramon said, trying to sound snarky like normal, but the obvious fear in his voice taking away the effect.  
He could practically hear Lane roll his eyes. “My guess is that, for whatever reason, you were the cause of the panic attack, and because of that, it effected you much more than us.” He said.

Ramon growled, still starring at the floor. “Isn’t that supposed to be Zero? How the hell would it happen to me?”  
“Because, it’s happened atleast once with the rest of us, so we know it can happen with you, and Zero already told us it wasn’t him.” He said

He stayed quiet, and Lane continued. “So, because Chiron came closer to you, and he is the other side of creativity, what was happening to you, also happened to him.”

Ramon wanted to protest. To scream and yell at him for even thinking that, to give him horrible visions of everyone he knew dying and being tortured, and broken as painfully and slowly as possible, but he was right. He knew he was right, and probably had ‘that look’ on his face because of it, and that was annoying. He’d like to wipe the look off his face. Literally. Tear off his face with a baby wipe, or atleast give him a vision of it happening, but all that would do was confirm it even more. Along with making his lingering headache worse. So he just left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a few passes to get to this point, but I do like the end result, although it is a little all over the place. I’m very open to constructive criticism, and maybe suggestions for names that don’t sound so clunky together, lol. I also do have a lot of ideas, so I might make more stories with them in the future


	2. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Shit happens. It’s supposed to be ambiguous about exactly what’s happening, so deal with it. Warnings: Swearing, but it’s only once. Fear, like, a lot of it. Mentions of blood and scars. I’m going to put some at the bottom, because it isn’t super relevant to this first part, but it is in the second one, so I just wanted to be safe, but they’re kinda spoilery, so only read them if you might need too. Please say if I should add more.

He was frozen. Stuck in place as the world went on around him. Roots twisted themselves up from the ground, around his feet. Vines steadily wrapping themselves up, around his legs, his torso, his arms, his neck, until he was was suffocating. A bird called overhead. The sun shone brightly above him. The world was still moving. He was frozen.

He tried to breathe, oh god he did, but the ice around him filled his lungs. He was frozen, the world around him was moving, and his mind was racing. He was vaguely aware that he was shaking. Shaking so hard his bones rattled and his eyes shook. He was vaguely aware of the burning in his lungs as they begged for air. He was vaguely aware that he was still alive. Real. There. He was vaguely aware that nothing he was experiencing mattered, in the long run. He was less than a speck in the colossal kaleidoscope that was the universe. He knew down to his core that it didn’t. Matter.

That didn’t make it any easier. Why should it? It wasn’t like he deserved the mercy. The man infront of him moved. Moved so slowly that he wondered if the air had turned to molasses. Then, all too quickly, the man was facing him, and for a moment, he was frozen too. For the first time since he’d seen him, he got a really good look at the man. He really wished he hadn’t. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen him before then, he’d recognized the wide shoulders, the dark hair, the deliberate, yet somehow angry way he moved. That had been when he froze. Now, though, he saw the mans face in great detail. Small scars, both familiar and new, traced the edges. A permanently set jaw parted in shock. Hair, more greasy then he ever remembered it, fell over the eyes, sticking to the skin everywhere else. The eyes. Oh god, the eyes. They burned into him like embers, and turned him cold like ice. They made him want to run. One part saying towards him, as acidic rage twisted in his stomach, another part saying away, ice cold fear sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t make a decision. His mind too fuzzy, half formed thoughts churning like butter through his head with a cacophony of white noise. His emotions sizzled and popped on his skin, in a dance with his instincts, pulling him two ways.

He wanted to cower. He wanted to avert his gaze, and show his belly, to yelp like a kicked puppy. He wanted to hiss, and spit, and claw, like an angry cat. He wanted to cry, and scream, until his throat was raw. He wanted to run, and hide, and push down the feelings, and pretend this had never happened. He wanted to kick, and punch, and taunt, until he knew the man would never forget him. He wanted to let his knees buckle, and to feel his body hit the asphalt. He wanted to let the familiar weightless feeling overtake him, and lift him into the air.

More then anything, he wanted it to stop.

”....well, isn’t this a surprise?” 

The mans voice was like sandpaper. It grated against him, biting into his skin, and making him want to gag. The ice in it was easily picked out as the tone, as well as the expression on the mans face, flattened from genuine surprise, into something smooth. Something practiced. Fake. A minuscule edge of anger that, once distinguished, sent another mammoth of a shiver down his spine.

He also wanted that man to never speak again. Wishing on some dimmed, forgotten, star, that the universe would reach out and tie his vocol cords together so he couldn’t.

The man took a step toward him, and every atom in his body set alight with alarm. 

Run he told himself. Run before he gets any closer, but his legs refused to move. Numb, and cold, and dead. Like he would be if he didn’t.

He let out the most pathetic, small, desperate, whimper he’d ever heard.

The shift in the mans expression to something horrible, chapped lips curled up into a sneer, and perfectly white teeth that he could almost feel ripping out his throat.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

Amusement dripped from the words like venom.

The man stepped closer again. Two steps instead of one, and he barely managed to bite back another cry. To hold back the burning hot tears that threatened to spill over. 

If he couldn’t run, he certainly wasn’t going to give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him break. If he was going to be viscously shredded, he wasn’t going to scream. No matter how much it hurt.

He clenched his teeth harder as the man came even closer. Four whole steps. Just a few more and he’d be close enough to touch. Every inch of him was set aflame with fear. The instinct to run racing through his veins.

He didn’t, couldn’t, move. 

And the man stepped closer.

And the man was taunting him.

And the man stepped closer. Closer again.

And he was shaking so hard it hurt, and his teeth, that were clenched with all his might, were chattering.

And the man knew.

And the man was smiling.

And the man stepped closer.

And the man saw him flinch.

And the man smiled wider.

”Oh, come on, don’t be so dramatic, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Ha. Yeah the fuck right.

The man was standing inches away from him, and he could already feel himself burn. Every single fiber of his being chanted the word RUN, and he never wanted to do just that more in his entire life, but he just.....couldn’t.

The man reached out to touch him. The contact was brief, but it felt like it was an eternity. All thoughts turned from screaming at himself to run, to the fire that lit up on his cheek, and spread to the rest of him.

It Burned.

And he screamed.

His body turned on autopilot as he sunk his teeth into the wrist, much, much, much, to close to his face, and the hand drew back. And he RAN.

He ran until his lungs were burning, until his whole body was burning, until he swore he was on fire.

His vision tunnelled, dark around the edges, and blurry in the middle.

He was numb to the pain.

He ran.

And he ran.

And then he dropped. Fell hard to the ground in a tangle of limbs. There was a sharp sound, reverberating in his skull. Air was knocked out of him, and didn’t come back in. Warmth spread from his forehead, down his neck, and radiated to the rest of him. There was pain. He could barely feel it.

He couldn’t breathe.

Then he could. Barely. His body forcing a gasp that shook him, the next coming quicker. Easier. 

He coughed, harsh and quick, but he was still breathing. Still alive. Still there. Real.

He clung to the feeling until the coughing subsided, until he was breathing steadily. His heart rate was quick. Too quick, and he could feel the force of it shake him. It skipped. Then it was steady. Still there. He breathed deeply. His vision cleared further. Spots dancing in the corners, and shadows blurring. He could still see. A bird called overhead, wings fluttering. He could hear it. He tasted blood, and spit. A part of him, the part that had been urging him to charge, felt satisfaction with knowing he’d managed to hurt the man. The other cringing at the thought of being close enough too. He smelled blood, too, this time his own, judging by the way it was flowing down his face. It was warm. He could feel it.

He was alive.

Relief flooded him, and a laugh bubbled up from his chest before he could stop it.

That motherfucker was alive too. Unless the bite he’d given him got infected and killed him, human bites were surprisingly dangerous, but he doubted it. It probably just pissed him off. At least it would keep him from going after him. Probably. 

He sat still for hours. Teetering on the edge of consciousness. He could see clearly again, but shadows swirled at the sides, disappearing the second he tried to look at them straight on. They weren’t real, though, he’d known that for a long time. Figured it out the hard way. 

The man was. He was real, and moving, and breathing, and alive, no matter how lifeless he seemed. He was real. And he’d seen him. Locked eyes with him. Been touched by him, even. He’d tried for so long to deny, ignore, pretend he wasn’t, even when he could see the scars. The old scars he never remembered getting, the ones he could sometimes barely see, but never went away. Littered across his skin. When he caught a glimpse of them, something forever imbedded in the back of his mind screamed Danger so loudly it hurt his ears, but he had still denied it. Ignored it. Convinced himself it wasn’t true.

Now he couldn’t do that.

Now there was proof.

Now every time something small set off the alarm bells in his mind, he couldn’t just chock it up to general paranoia. Now he would know exactly why. Why whenever someone touched him, even those he knew, made him flinch, or tense up. Why whenever someone hovered over him for too long, it made him want to shove them away. Why he so often felt like the walls were closing in on him. It wouldn’t, couldn’t, explain all of it, it probably didn’t even come close, but it explained some things. It fit perfectly into place for some, and only left a few cracks for more.

It was true.

The thought burned into him. Searing his skin from the inside, and icing over the out. He wanted to scream. To cry. To do anything, feel anything, but all he felt was numb.

The emotions would come in time, he knew, but for now he would be numb. Cold. 

And for a while, he stayed that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!SPOILER RISK!!  
> Additional warnings: Rape, childhood sexual assault, child abuse, neglect, physical abuse.....yeah....he’s fine tho, promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Spooker gets attacked by a gang, and Ghost saves him. Warnings: Assault, Violence, Choking, ect. Guns. Fear. Tell me if I should add more

Spooker was an idiot. That’s all there was too it. Although he’d never really believed it until now. Yeah, he had trouble keeping things in his head, losing memories left and right, like that one time he borrowed some of their ghost hunting gear to show it off to a friend, and forgot to bring it back the next day. Yeah, he sometimes couldn’t keep his mouth shut, like that one time he was planning a surprise for Colon, and blabbed it right too him. He was forgetful. He was loud at the worst of times. He was clumsy, and silly, and annoying, and emotional. 

That wasn’t what made him an idiot. 

What made him an idiot was thinking that going for a walk in the middle of the night, when he lived in the bad side of town, without the gun he was sure he wasn’t legally aloud to have, while a gang was running loose in the area, and ontop of that, walking right into an alleyway was a good idea. Now, here he was, pinned against the wall by a masked figure, another pressing a gun to his head, and the last one looking on in mocking amusement.

He tried to gather his nerve, and ask what they wanted, but the only sound he managed to make was a breatheless squeak as the man holding him tightened the grip on his wrists, and leaned closer, purring in his ear.

”You make a sound and your dead twice over, got it pretty boy?” The voice was gruff and the gun pressed further into his skin.

The man slammed his fist next to his ear, and he flinched. “I said.” The hand grabbed onto his wrist again. “You got it, pretty boy?”

Spooker forced himself to nod, fighting against the pressure of the gun. He was sure his knees would’ve buckled if he wasn’t being held up.

That seemed to please the man, as he smiled dangerously, and leaned his face even closer. “Good. Now I’m sure your wondering why we chose you, out of all the other idiots wandering around, for this.”

Spooker was hyperventilating. He could feel it. Air scratching it way into his throat, and out again before even reaching his lungs. 

“Hmm? No answer? Fine then, I guess I’ll tell you anyways. I’m sure you’ve heard of this little.... ‘business’ called P.I.E. Long story short, we’re looking for someone who works there, and a little birdie told me you might know.”

He barely registered the words, barely even able to hear them past the sound of his own heartbeat. He was shaking. Shaking so hard his legs felt like jelly, and his teeth chattered.

The man tilted his head. “Well? Anything?”

Spooker honestly tried to speak. To roll his stray thoughts together into something tangible, something like words, and push them past his lips. He couldn’t. The man definitely wasn’t happy about that, either.

He slammed his fist into the wall again, and instead of grabbing his wrist again, his hand pressed gently against Spooker throat. Even just the slight pressure made it nearly impossible to breathe, and he had never been more aware of how fragile he really was. Just a slight squeeze would cut off his oxygen supply, and he’d drop like a stone. He wouldn’t be dead, he remembered Ghost saying so a while back, that it would take much longer than that to actually suffocate someone after they were unconscious. He found no comfort in the thought.

”Still not saying anything? Really? I guess we’ll just have to force it out of you.” 

The pressure against his neck doubled, then tripled, and he felt more then saw the edges of his vision going black.

black.

.......

Then, all at once, the pressure disappeared, along with the force holding him up, and he dropped to the ground. He looked up, trying to make sense of it with his still blurred vision, and, if only for a second, froze.

Spooker had seen Ghost angry before. Most of the time, he was just annoyed. Annoyed when Spooker bumped into him, or said something dumb, or even looked in his direction. Then, he was sharp. Like a needle. Glare digging into skin, and words piercing him to the bone. That was fleeting, though, gone the moment it came, no matter how much it happened. Real anger was much rarer, but he had seen it. Like when he had avoided Toast like the plague that one day, and hadn’t even looked at any of them. Toast never gave an explanation, just said that he’d done something he shouldn’t, and that Ghost was right to be mad. The next day it was much better, apparently they’d talked about it, but it was still tense. Ghost still barely speaking to him, although he looked up quite a bit more. It was a full week before everything was back to normal. Then, he hadn’t been sharp, more like a dull knife that dug into you slowly, with time, and taking a while to heal back over.

Now, he was like a stone. A big one. Hitting you only once, but the pain lingering for hours. If the broken mask on the ground, and blood gushing from the misshapen nose of his attacker, who was now sprawled out on his back with his friends watching, switching between looking at him, and Ghost, Spooker could guess where it had hit him. Ghost turned to him, face quickly switching from that of a snarling animal, to one of concern, and he looked like he was about to help him, when a bang shattered the air.

Spooker winced, managing to cover his ears as they began to ring, and Ghost visibly flinched. His teeth bared slowly, and a soft growl echoed through the silence. Ghost pulled out his own gun, and pointed it at the woman with the other. Her hand was shaking, and her aim was unsteady, but she pointed it right back, forcing a scoff that shook with nerves. 

“Ha! Like you’d actually shoot me-“ She was cut off by another, much more bearable, bang. Her gun dropped to the ground, and she pulled her bloody hand to her chest. The other one went for it, was stopped by a kick from Ghost, and ran away bawling. 

Ghost took a breath, and turned back to Spooker, dropped to his knees infront of him, but whatever he said was lost in the water that filled his ears. Everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh...I don’t know what happened but only like half of this chapter was published last time? I don’t know, but I fixed it


	4. Alien Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanders sides alien AU, with Virgil and Janus as humans, and they were on the same ship with Remus, a raptillion, lizard like alien. I definitely plan on turning this into a full story, but I’m working on other projects now. This is HEAVILY inspired by Delimeful’s work on Archive Of Our Own, the alien designs are almost exactly the same, but the plot is quite a bit different. Read it, it’s good archiveofourown.org/works/20621636/chapters/48966740

Virgil never liked smugglers.

Of course, no one really did, unless you were one of them, with all the stories of kidnapping, and torture, and everything you heard about them. He hadn’t liked them, but he’d never really been afraid of them. Atleast, not until they’d relentlessly tracked them for weeks, not giving them a chance to rest, until they could no longer run. 

They came at the strike of midnight. Atleast, according to the makeshift clock him and Janus had set up so they could atleast somewhat tell time, instead of having to rely on the confusing space version of telling time, but he liked to believe it worked pretty well. Remus had been the one piloting the ship at the time, he wasn’t normally aloud too, after he’d almost crashed it, but they were far away from anything but one other ship, and the fuel was low, so they were going slower than usual to preserve it. Virgil had been about to offer to take his place, seeing as Remus was nodding off, and Virgil was much more used to staying up late than him, but then- bang! They were all awake in an instant. “What the Hell was that!?” Janus said, shouting over the following distinctive hissing sound that Remus always swore he couldn’t hear. 

“The shields.” Virgil replied, as he stood up, heart beginning to race. “They’re here.” He’d tried to keep his voice level, but the panic building in his chest didn’t let him, and he found himself shouting along with Janus.

“Shit. Shit shit shit shit, what do we do!?” Janus yelled, beginning to pace. 

Remus tapped a few buttons on a screen, and stood up too, as another bang sounded, and the already dim lights flickered out. “The Safe Room, we have to get there, I unlocked it.” His voice was calmer then theirs, but Virgil could see his claws shaking. 

Janus took Virgils hand, and Virgil took Remus’ as they began to run, Remus barely managing to keep up, just about being dragged along the floor. Virgil’s world turned into twisting corridors, and darks stairwells, as he allowed Janus to lead them, knowing that he’d memorized the layout of the ship a thousand times, and trusting him to remember the way. They reached it in record time, all wheezing, Remus the worst, unused to running so far so fast. Virgil handed him a water bottle, and watched Janus fiddling with the locks, trying to get them as secure as possible.

Then it was quiet. Save for the occasional bang, and flurry of footsteps. Janus finally sat back, and Virgil could see him fidgeting with his sleeves. None of them dared to speak, knowing that whoever was on the other side might hear them, and once Remus had finally caught his breath, the room was quiet.

It was maddening.

They’d been waiting in silence for days, atleast as far as any of them could tell, and the only time Virgil had slept, was when he passed out and woke an hour later. They’d been writing to one another to communicate, but every time they tried to come up with a plan, their sleep deprived brains couldn’t come up with anything but stay there, and maybe they’d leave. They definitely wouldn’t, as far as Virgil was concerned, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. They had absolutely no idea what they were dealing with, the only thing they were pretty sure about, was that they were smugglers, and if so, they were probably here for Virgil and Janus more then Remus, and if that was the case, they probably had a perfect plan to capture them, lest they get torn apart by the ‘Rabid Humans’. 

Janus came up, and gently touched him on the shoulder, making Virgil jump, before he saw that he was holding a plate of food, offering it to him. Virgil took it, nodding his thanks, and Janus rubbed his back for a moment, before going back over to the ‘kitchen’ area where more was stored. Virgil starred down at it, sighing quietly, as he forced himself to eat. He had no desire too, but he knew if and when the smugglers broke into the room, he would need to be at full strength, or atleast as close as he could get to it, to have the best chance at surviving. Once he was done, he put away the plate, and started pacing, making sure his footsteps were quiet. Some primal part of him wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, if only to hear something other than his own breathing. He counted his footsteps, trying to quell the desire, and gnawed his cheek until he tasted blood.

Virgil flinched as something small hit him in the side of the head. Looking down, it was a crumbled piece of paper, and looking up, he knew it was Remus from the way he grinned, and pushed a scaly hand to his mouth to stifle a soft laugh. Virgil glared at him, before picking up the paper and getting ready to throw it back, before Remus shook his head, and made a motion with his hands, like unfolding it. Virgil rolled his eyes, but obeyed, and opened it, squinting slightly at the letters he still wasn’t used to reading, especially in the dark, and from Remus’ absurdly messy handwriting.

’Did anything like this ever happen to you before?’

Virgil blinked, and read it over again, before looking up at Remus, brow furrowed, and shook his head. Remus got up from his spot on the floor, and moved quietly over to him, glancing at Janus, who was asleep on one of the chairs. Remus stood infront of Virgil for a second, looking down at him in a rare moment, as Virgil was much taller then him standing up, before sitting next to him, and pressing against his side, as he took the note back. Virgil took it again.

’Nevermind, I just thought that maybe you or Janus had, I’ve heard how harsh earth can be’

Virgil took it back, and tilted his head slightly, before writing something too.

’It’s not really as bad as you think, from what I know, but I guess stuff kinda like this happens sometimes. It is rare though, and it’s never happened to me or him’

He handed it back to Remus, who took it, read it, and after a long moment of him seemingly trying to think of what to say, wrote back.

’what is it actually like there?’

Now it was Virgils turn to think hard about his answer. There really was a lot Remus didn’t know about earth. Of course he and Janus had told him a few things, but when they did, it always turned into them reminiscing about old pets, and jerk teachers from when they were in school together. At some point Remus would get lost on what they were saying, and move onto something else. He decided to start slow.

’It has a bunch of different climates, but I lived in Florida, near the equator, meaning it wasn’t too hot, or too cold. Janus did too, not far away from me, and we were friends since we were kids.’

He decided that was a good start, handing it back to Remus.

’what are the different climates?’

In the end, they quote on quote talked about it for hours. It hurt a little to think so much about his old home, one he could never return to, but it felt good, in a way, too. Virgil told him about the planet itself, but more about what it was like living there. His parents, school, his first cat, and Remus soaked up every word happily. He was especially exited to learn about the plate tectonics, and how the earth liked to ‘projectile vomit it’s insides on everyone’ as he put it. Virgil had a serious case of writers cramp when he finally tried to shift the conversation, so he could rest his hand.

’Why don’t you talk about something? My hand hurts’

Remus smiled softly, a rare expression on him, as he wrote his reply.

’I could tell you about my planet’

Virgil nodded, instead of writing his answer, curious. Despite all the times him and Janus spoke about earth, Remus barely ever spoke about his planet. Virgil had always been curious, but he decided not to press it every time he was. Remus had his reasons for not wanting to share, and that was none of his business. Now, though, he was opening up, and Virgil couldn’t help but cling to his every word.

’it only has one climate, and it’s pretty sandy. Kinda like the desserts on your world, but less hot, and more plants. I was never taught much about how it actually works, though. I was really young when I left it with my brother’

Virgil read it over his shoulder as he wrote, and nodded slowly in a way he hoped was encouraging when Remus looked at him, a little sheepish. Remus had a brother? 

Remus continued writing.

‘We would get into all sorts of trouble together. One time we were playing with some other kids, and I had the idea to pretend we were each other. We didn’t look too much alike, but we just swapped clothes, and called each other by the wrong name. Our mom was really mad, and yelled at us for scaring one of the kids, but we heard her laugh when she walked away.’

Virgil smiled, and Remus kept writing.

’we both always wanted to go to space, our dad always had too, and our older siblings. Mom always said it was in our blood. Normally, when one of us wants to get a space job, we would have to wait until we were atleast 30 of our years old (around 16), and sign up on this huge list so we could go to school for it. My brother always wanted to do it that way, saying it was more honorable, which was bullshit, obviously, so one day I convinced him to go with me, and sneak onto this new ship that was supposed to launch soon. I’d heard somewhere that it wouldn’t be up that long, so I thought it would be ok.’

He stopped for a minute, thinking about his words again.

’I was wrong though. We managed to stay hidden for a while, but one day, my brother got caught.’

Remus paused again.

’He got dragged away and I never saw him again after that. I don’t know what happened to him.’

Virgil frowned, and tried his best to comfort his friend. Just before he reached for the paper, hoping to say something to help, when Janus woke; and shifted to sit up, his hair sticking up all over the place. Remus wrote something and showed him.

’he looks like an idiot’

Virgil huffed out a laugh, and froze, clamping a hand over his mouth. Everything went quiet, as the three stared at each other with wide eyes. For a moment, everything seemed fine, like he hadn’t made a sound at all, and maybe the smugglers hadn’t heard him, and he didn’t just get him and his friends killed.

And then everything went wrong.


	5. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something I just came up with, and managed to write mostly in one sitting. It’s set pretty early in their career, and is the first time Ghost got possessed. It’s a pretty short one, but I have some longer ones I’m working on, so that should make up for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Cursing, Possession, and all the lovely things that come with that. Head injury. Tell me if I should add any more

He’d never been possessed before. Some might argue that him existing in the way he did, was possession, but if it was, it didn’t feel that way. He’d always been him, in his body, even if he wasn’t alone. When he wasn’t in control, he was still him, looking out of his eyes, seeing his own body move, even he wasn’t the one moving it. True possession was much worse. 

They’d been in another abandoned hospital, which somehow wound up in the possession, no pun intended, of an old man, who wanted to sell it, but refused to do so until they’d cleared it. He hadn’t even noticed at first. There’d been no bright light, no pain of another soul forcing it’s way inside of him. Just a soft, familiar chill, and the light, involuntary, shiver that followed. He’d thought it had simply passed through him; it was something that’d happened a thousand times before, enough that he’d gotten used to it. The only thing off was that the chill lingered. Not enough to make him shiver, barely even enough to feel, but definitely there. He blinked, confused, and that’s when he felt it. 

Something foreign was inside of him. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but it was the only thought coursing through his mind. The rest of his senses were dulled, fuzzy, and there was pressure behind his eyes that he couldn’t feel. Static filled his ears, unintelligible whispers swirling through his mind. Thoughts that weren’t his own. He stumbled as his chest began to ache. Something wrapping itself around something that was intrinsically him, and something else at the same time. There was a pull. A shove, as the foreign object all his instincts told him to get out, rip open his chest, and tear out his heart, if he had too, tried to shove it’s way through him. 

He was blinded by pain. Beneath it he felt himself separating, two separate, but not different, halves of him being torn apart, held together by threads that, no matter how thin, wouldn’t break. The force doubled, and the pain tripled, and with a final shove, it ceased. The two halves snapped back together, and mixed into eachother, like nothing had ever happened.

The foreign object enveloped him easily, surrounding him. It burned like boiling water, coiling around and around, connecting little by little, until it was done. It pressed down on him with enough force to shatter each and every one of his bones. His eyes rolled back into his head. The world fell out from under him, but he was still standing.

He’d lost control.

His head was bowed. Green light pooled around him, flooding out through his eyes. His eyes that were neither red or brown. They were bright green, and shining so bright they were, ironically, blinding him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t move. He was stiff as a board, every muscle taught, though he wasn’t shaking. One by one, they began to relax. The smallest first, slowly moving onto the larger ones, until a light tap would’ve pushed him over. 

His head rose robotically, every muscle in his neck tensing, the ones not being used using slowly relaxing. Whatever spirit had possessed him certainly hadn’t done so before. They couldn’t be freshly dead, either, or else they’d remember how to move. They were trying to focus his eyes, when something flew at them, and they jumped back on reflex. It still smacked them square on his forehead, making them flinch when it hurt, but it had done the job. They looked down at his body, moving it flawlessly as they did so, and smiled. They looked up, saw Toast standing infront of them, another rock clenched in his fist, and with their renewed instincts, lunged at him.

\- - - -

Toast dodged back, and instinctively reached for his gun, before realizing that was stupid, and deciding the rock he still held was enough of a weapon. The ghost was still struggling to recover, having slammed head first into the ground, unused to feeling pain. He reeled back his arm, ready to throw the rock as hard as he could, but hesitated. After all, it was still Ghost’s body. After the ghost was gone, he’d just be hurt. 

Something slammed into him, forcing him to the ground, and knocking the air out of him. He wheezed, and struggled, as the ghost dug it’s knees into his stomach. He tried to kick it, but couldn’t get any force behind it. The ghost was still smiling above him, wearing his friends face, and apparently his reflexes too. 

Hands appeared around his neck, and he forced down a wave of panic, gathering as much strength as he could, and shoving upward before the ghost could figure out how hard to squeeze.

The weight above him disappeared, and he struggled to his feet, panting. Something rammed into him again. He dodged backwards, unable to avoid it, but didn’t let himself get knocked down. The ghost stumbled over it’s own feet, and ran at him again. He ducked to the side, and jumped up again, ready to dodge another attack, and paused when he saw it leaning on the wall, apparently having crashed into it. It clutched it’s head, breathing heavily.

Toast watched it, an idea forming in his mind. It would work, he was sure, he’d just have to play his cards right.

\- - - - 

Toast leaped to the side, dodging a haphazard attack. He stumbled, catching himself before he fell. He was exhausted. Shaking with exertion, air ripping out of his lungs faster then it got in, and after seeing the ghost laying on the ground, struggling to rise, he allowed himself to rest briefly, leaning against the wall. His plan was working, although maybe a bit too well; he’d been dodging every hit the ghost tried to give him, not once hitting back, in an attempt to exhaust it. Drain it’s energy enough that it couldn’t fight back, and left Ghost’s body. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with it once it came out, and the worst thing that could happen to Ghost was getting fatigued. It’d worked pretty well so far, the ghost didn’t have a clue how to conserve energy, and it was very clearly tired, looking like it’d fall over any second. The problem was that he did too, after running circles around it for what felt like hours. He knew how to conserve his energy, and he was definitely more experienced in managing a physical body then the ghost was, but Ghost had always had more stamina then him, and he was beginning to worry he’d be the one to drop first.

He forced himself to focus as the ghost finally pulled itself up, and turned to him. It glared at him with it’s eery glowing eyes, and didn’t even fully stand before charging. Toast jumped out of the way, the ghost missing by a hair.

The ghost realized it’s mistake much too late, and barely had the chance to look scared as it slammed head first into the wall, and crumpled to the floor.

Toast let out a sigh of relief. A bright green orb exited Ghost’s open mouth, swirling into glowing tendrils, and speeding away, before he realized that Ghost wasn’t getting up, and oh shit, he’s not getting up, is he ok? 

He dropped to his knees, wondering if he should try to feel his pulse, when Ghost groaned, and rolled onto his side, and he let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

”Ghost? Are you ok? Can you hear me?” He asked, exhausted and frantic.

Ghost tried, and failed, to sit up. “Jesus..what happened? I feel like I was hit by a truck..” he mumbled, looking up at him with hazy eyes.

Toast laughed, and eyeing the walls, now covered in several vaguely-head-shaped dents. “You might as well’ve been.” He said. “You need help?” He asked, as Ghost once again tried to sit up. 

He nodded, and Toast wrapped an arm around his shoulders, shakily helping him stand, and supporting him as they drug their feet through the maze of halls to the car. Leaving early meant they definitely weren’t getting paid, even if they did manage to chase off a few of the ghosts. He’d have to call the owner, maybe he’d let them come back and finish the job if he told them what happened.

”You look like shit.” Ghost slurred beside him, and Toast snorted.

”You don’t look much better yourself.” He replied, helping Ghost into the car.

“..Maybe I should drive.” He said, leaning heavily on the door, and eyeing him.

”You have a concussion.”

Ghost grinned, a real, happy, smile, nothing like the robotically manic grin on his face earlier, lopsided as it was. “I’d still drive better than you.”

Toast elbowed him, but couldn’t keep from laughing as he started the car, and drove off.


	6. Vamp Jimmy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy’s a vampire, and Toast finds him passed out in the street, starved half to death, and takes him home. Warnings: Mentions of blood, blood drinking, Starvation, self starvation, Mentions of torture, and permanent injury, Casual/joking mention of seizures, Gagging/nausea, and probably more things I can’t think of that I’d like to be told about if y’all notice anything.

The first thing Jimmy noticed was the light. Blindingly bright, and searing into him. He squinted, covering his eyes with his hand, and blinking rapidly. It wasn’t as if a vampires eyes were incapable of adapting to brightness, it was just that they weren’t really meant too. Their pupils were permanently dilated, in order to see better in the dark. It had never been a problem for him, he’d hardly noticed it when he never went out during the day, hardly daring to try with what happened last time.

He wasn’t home. Once his eyes adjusted enough to actually see, he knew that. He probably should’ve guessed it before, because if he was, there was no reason for it to be so bright, but now it was undeniable. Now that he knew where he wasn’t, he would just have to figure out where he was, which was definitely harder.

He could pick out more and more details as his eyes adjusted, and found that it helped absolutely none. He was definitely inside a house, laying on a couch. A large window was centred right infront of him, covered only by a thin sheet of cloth, and hurt his eyes to look at it. Around him was a small room, with weak looking wooden walls, and a dying fireplace at the other end. 

Before he could investigate further, something approached. Someone, he corrected, as he turned his head, and saw them starring him down. He startled, and twisted upright, getting tangled in something soft that was wrapped around him, and faced the man, who looked just as startled. Jimmy knew better. He was a hunter, why else would he have brought him here? A civilian would’ve run the second they saw him. He must’ve recognized his weakened state, but why hadn’t he just killed him? Was he planning to torture him? Draw it out as long as possible? Or maybe interrogate him?

He tried to look for weapons, but found none. He was hiding them well, and he’d learned only the best hunters did that; trying to surprise him, so he didn’t have time to dodge. He felt for his own weapon, and froze when he found nothing. Not even the holster he’d had it in, just nothing. Alarmed, he glanced down at himself, and fear rose like bile in his throat. He only had his inner layer on, thick black cloth, good for hiding in the shadows, and built for keeping out the cold, not that it ever really helped. 

It would do absolutely nothing to protect him from a weapon, especially one specifically designed to pierce his skin. He was as good as dead, and he had to resist falling back into his old habit of biting his lip, one that he’d quickly broken when he realized how easily his teeth could slice straight through it.

”..um....hello there.” Said the man(?) infront of him.

He jumped and suppressed a hiss. If he did that, he’d only be killed quicker. 

“Are you...okay?” He asked, eyeing him cautiously.

Jimmy blinked. Why was he talking to him? Even more, why had he asked about his wellbeing? It made no sense. Maybe he was going to interrogate him after all, and this was some weird tactic to get him to talk. He would’ve thought they’d go for torture first, but apparently he was wrong. The Hunter continued starring, looking about as confused as he was, and Jimmy tucked his bare feet under him, positioning himself so he could jump at The Hunter at a moments notice. The brightness mad gauging the distance harder then it should’ve been, and he was weak, but if he could surprise him before he tried anything, maybe he could get away.

Probably not, but it was worth a shot.

The Hunter stepped closer, and he clenched his teeth to stop from baring his fangs.

”You can understand me, right? Maybe I should’ve done more research, um...” He looked away.

A first timer, then? That might explain the weird behaviour. It didn’t mean Jimmy shouldn’t be careful, however, most new Hunters had a more experienced one with them, and even if this one didn’t, he still very much had the intention of killing him.

”I..I’m Johnny, what’s....what’s your name?” He motioned to himself, and looked up again.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes. This was getting ridiculous, couldn’t he just kill him already? Even if he wasn’t successful, it would be better then whatever this was supposed to be.

”Um....I heard vampires can eat normal food, is...that true?” He asked.

Jimmy starred at him for a while, and slowly nodded his head. Maybe he did have a plan, and this was just an elaborate trick.

The Hunter, Johnny, apparently, lit up. “You can understand me, then! Uh, you want me to get you something?”

He said nothing.

”...I’ll just go do it then, wait here.” He said, then turned and walked away. Kept his back to Jimmy when he very well knew he could be torn apart with barely any effort on his side.

Jimmy shifted so he was actually sitting on the couch, though he kept his feet on the ground incase he needed to run quickly. This was a joke, right? The Hunter wasn’t this incompetent. Even the least experienced weren’t quite that dumb. It was an elaborate trick so he could torture Jimmy, surely. He wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of his Hunter friends were watching right now, giggling like school girls as they watched what they thought was him being fooled. He was halfway tempted to flip off the walls of the room, but if he was wrong, he would just look stupid, and if he wasn’t, he’d probably be killed instantly, which wasn’t something he particularly wanted at the moment.

It was still much too bright, and now that he had the time to notice, it was freezing too. He shivered, and looked around again. The window was right there, if he could just get up, and go through it, he’d be free. Then again, he was tired. Worryingly so. Vampires weren’t supposed to be tired. Had they drugged him or something? No, it was nearly impossible for them have something potent enough, and even if they did it wouldn’t have effected him this much, so it had to just be him feeling it on his own. Memories from the night before were coming back, and that explained some of it. He’d been feeling a bit weak for a few weeks, (ha) but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t just ignore, and pretend wasn’t a problem. Until it was. He’d stumbled around, dizzy, for a little while, before giving in, and sitting down to rest. For five hours. Completely unconscious, too, as he’d fallen asleep. He fucking fell. Asleep. It wasn’t like he couldn’t, he was supposed too, really, but this was different. The most he’d ever slept since he got turned was an hour, and even then he’d been way weaker than normal. That was years ago now, exactly seven of them as of last week.

Suffice to say, that wasn’t good. He knew why, it didn’t take a genius to guess that he’d been slacking. He always did, really, every time he tried to make a schedule for himself, he failed miserably. He’d even tried loosening it up a bit, stretching the intervals as much as he reasonably could, but still he only ever left out of necessity. This was the longest he’d ever gone without it. He was starving himself, slowly but surely, and he was suffering for it.

The Hunter, Johnny, if that was his real name, came back after a little while with two plates of strong smelling food, and after handing one to Jimmy, awkwardly sat in a chair across the room, and starred at him. Took him long enough.

”It’s not much, but uh...I hope you like it..” He said.

Jimmy ignored him, and carefully examined the plate in his lap. It smelled like a mix of weird spices, and mush. It didn’t look much better, a small slab of what looked like meat, something green next to it that he definitely wasn’t going to touch, and a pile of discoloured mashed potatoes. He considered just not eating it, and setting it on the floor or something, it wasn’t like he’d really get anything from it, but he’d probably be killed for that, so he gave it a shot. The next thing he knew, half of it was gone, and he was forcing himself to stop because any more would probably make him throw up. It probably had something to do with the whole actively starving to death thing, but it wouldn’t really help at all, and honestly he just kinda felt sick after it, but atleast he wasn’t dead yet.

Unless this was supposed to be hell.

”You okay? You...your shivering.” Johnny The Pathetic Hunter said quietly, startling him half to death.

He just glared. The answer was pretty damn obvious. Then he quickly looked down again, as the light from the window sent spots dancing in his eyes. Stupid sun. It was gonna give him a headache, and he’d had more than his fair share of those already.

Johnny seemed to pick up on the motion, which was nice. Atleast he was observant, if nothing else. “..is it too bright?”

Jimmy starred resolutely at the floor.

”I’ll take that as a yes, hold on.” He stood up, and left again. Maybe while he was at it, he could give him his stuff back, and just let him leave. He knew the city well enough that he could get away with traversing it with his eyes closed....probably. He’d just have to avoid stepping on any stray cats.

The Hunter Whose Name Definitely Wasn’t Johnny, came back with a few thicker blankets, and draped them over the window.

“Does that help?” He said.

Jimmy nodded. It helped quite a bit, actually, and he suspected that if he wasn’t a few hours away from dropping dead, it would be enough. Wouldn’t that be funny? Having this stupid Hunter drag his little game out for so long, that Jimmy just dropped infront of him, before he had the chance to kill him himself.

“Your still shaking...” Said Not Johnny.

Oh, really? He hadn’t noticed. Not like he could literally hear his own teeth chattering.

”Are you..cold?” The Stupid and Pathetic Hunter said.

No, not at all, he’s just shaking for the fun of it.

”.....I’ll be right back, then..again.” He said. Turning his back on Jimmy for the third time in a row, and showcasing just how stupid he really was.

He came back with another blanket, and after giving it to Jimmy, he messed with the fireplace for a while, eventually getting a small fire going.

Thoughtful, if not completely unnecessary, because, again, Jimmy was actively starving to death, and probably gonna flop over and die in a little bit, maybe have a seizure for some added flair.

”Better?” Asked Stupid Hunter.

Jimmy shrugged. He was still cold, nothing he ever did really helped with that, but atleast the weight of the blanket was nice. He felt a bit less exposed, though he still knew he was vulnerable.

”Okay, um...” He stood, starring awkwardly at Jimmy. His bad social skills were rubbing off on him, wasn’t that fun? “Can...can I ask you some questions? I,..uh...it’s okay if you don’t want me too.”

Jimmy nodded. So he was trying to interrogate him. Still a dumb way to do it, but maybe he wanted him to answer sincerely? Torture definitely wouldn’t work on him, the few times it’d been tried, he stayed quiet until forced to speak, and when he did, he was always snarky and deflective, never actually saying what was obviously expected of him. Maybe this guys Hunter friends had recognized him, and told him about it.

”Okay, um...can you speak?” He said.

Jimmy nodded, and Not Johnny starred at him for a while, apparently expecting him to demonstrate.

”Alright, good..I uh, had a list here, hold on..” He dug around in his pockets, and pulled out a slip of paper. “Okay, first one...how long can you usually go without food?”

...what, were they gonna try to starve him out? It’s was a little too late for that. He cleared his throat, and tried to speak, but nothing came out, so Not Johnny handed him a notepad, and a stubby pencil. 

Once Jimmy gave it back, he spent a good amount of time squinting at it. “Kinda hard to read...” Jimmy smirked, because that was definitely on purpose, and his handwriting was normally perfectly elegant, and legible, and it definitely wasn’t because his vision was blurry, and his hands were shaking.

”A few months, really? Weird, everything I looked at said you’d start getting weaker after just a week or two..” Bad Hunter said. He wasn’t wrong, but Jimmy managed perfectly fine for longer. Besides the fact he was slowly dying the longer he sat here.

Johnny (he’d concluded that that really was his name, with the way he reacted to it) was asleep. Most of the day had passed with them asking and answering questions, Jimmy finally working up the nerve to ask a few of his own, until Johnny had to eat again, and just half an hour after that, he was asleep. And Jimmy was starring at him, fighting the instinct to come closer, and wondering if it was even worth it. He wasn’t a Hunter. He wasn’t sure how much he believed the story about him being found passed out in the middle of the street, and being moved here so he wouldn’t be run over or something, but he did believe that the idiot across the room wasn’t a Hunter. He’d reassured him multiple times, and had seemed so sincere each time he did it. Jimmy wasn’t going to hurt him. He didn’t hurt good people.

...Or did he? Sure, he tried not too, but most of the time he had no idea what the people he did hurt were like. He never killed them, yeah, made damn sure he wouldn’t, but he’d still hurt them, hadn’t he? Some of them were bad, but some had to be good too. It was just statistics at that point. Plus he was literally starving to death, so it wasn’t like he was just doing it for fun. Every small movement hurt like hell, so he could guess how bad it would be trying to stand, and go over to him, but he could do it. It would be nearly impossible to leave and find someone else, no matter how close the window was.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was crouching next to Johnny, who was completely unaware, and slowly reaching over to grab his arm. He looked back at his face, and he was still asleep. Completely unaware. Helpless. Unable to defend himself. Jimmy watched him, making sure he stayed that way, as he gently brought his wrist closer to him, and slowly, deliberately, bit down.

He stumbled back, rising to his full height, and watching as two small droplets of blood beaded up on the wrist of the person who had been nothing but kind to him. He felt horrible. Quickly, he searched the house, and brought back a first aid kit, bandaging his arm, and writing a note saying sorry, as if that would help, before climbing out the window, and onto the roof.

The moon was almost full, but it was still dark enough not to hurt his eyes, and he could point out a few constellations, even if the city lights blocked out most of the stars. It was cold, but that was nothing new.

Why was he so stupid? Johnny would hate him now, and if he didn’t try to kill him himself, he would probably call an actual Hunter to do the job for him. He’d deserve it too. Johnny had shown trust in him, even if it was stupid, and he’d betrayed that trust. He’d hurt him. He should just run back home, and never leave again, but he couldn’t. That was the worst part. He was still weak. Still tired. Still starving. It wasn’t nearly enough, but he was still too weak to go find someone else, and he definitely wasn’t going to go back inside for more. He’d caught a glimpse of his reflection (he could see it because this mirror didn’t have silver in it, duh) as he was searching the house, and he didn’t know how Johnny hadn’t already guessed it. His cheeks were hollow, eyes sunken in, and his skin, somehow, paler then it was normally. He could almost see his ribs through his shirt.

He looked like shit. Felt like it, too, honestly, and all he’d managed to do was make another enemy.

It was nearly morning when he heard Johnny wake up. He held his breath, wondering what he would do, and half expecting him to start screaming. The sun was beginning to rise, and he knew he’d have to go inside soon, the last time he stayed out too long, the sun was fully risen before he could get back, and once he finally did, he’d realized he’d popped a blood vessel in his right eye, leaving a permanent red spot, and freaking him out for a week straight. He didn’t want to repeat that, and he was already having to squint.

”Jimmy..?” He heard his name, and perked up. Johnny didn’t sound angry, but how could he not be? Had he not noticed?

”Jimmy! Are you out there?” He flinched at the louder volume, but it definitely wasn’t angry, he was just trying to make himself heard.

”I’m..I’m not mad! If that’s what your worried about!” He said, and it sounded honest, it really did, but how could it be?

Jimmy heard a huff, and the soft sound of him sitting down, apparently thinking he wasn’t there. It wasn’t angry, he wasn’t angry, and the sun was rising, and he had nowhere else to go. So he slowly lowered himself to the ground, and silently crawled through the open window.

Johnny stood immediately. “You didn’t leave!”

Jimmy couldn’t meet his eyes, instead starring at his wrist, wrapped in white, with the sleeve hallway rolled up. It was slightly limp at his side, like it was difficult to hold it up, and Jimmy flinched, looking away.

”..hey, are you ok?” Asked Johnny for the millionth time in a row. He glared, although he couldn’t see it. Yeah, besides the fact that he had just done one of the stupidest things possible, and he was still so weak that he was having to concentrate much too hard to not fall over.

Johnny stepped closer, apparently wanting to comfort him, for some god forsaken reason, but stopped before he reached out to touch him. Smart, considering the last time someone had touched him, he’d startled so bad he kicked them halfway across a room, and if he did that now, he’d probably fall over, regardless of if he hit him or not. Instead, he stood a few steps back, and looked at him. Really looked at him, and for the first time, seemed to notice the blatantly obvious signs of his current state. Even through the replaced armoured clothing, (he’d found it while searching the house, along with his dagger) it was easy to tell.

Jimmy felt exposed. No one had looked at him like that for a long, long time. Unless they were planning on hurting, or mocking him. Or both. Then again, this still wasn’t the same. The intentions were different. Johnny wasn’t looking him up and down, scoffing in disgust, and telling his friends to start kicking him again.

”Oh..” Johnny said, breathless.

Jimmy shrugged, unable to think of any other response, and cautiously made his way back to the couch, sitting on the edge, and shivering lightly as a breeze blew in through the still open window, knowing he couldn’t stand for much longer. Unless he wanted to fall over, face plant, break his nose, and bleed out infront of Johnny. He wasn’t entirely opposed to it, but it was too late to get back up now.

Johnny stood idly for a moment longer, watching him, before shifting on his feet, and clearing his throat. “Um...I uh, have some friends coming over..”

What? “What?” Jimmy asked, voice quiet, and a little scratchy.

”I didn’t tell them about you! I even tried to get them to not come! They asked why I wasn’t at work yesterday, and I just told them I was sick, but I never really get sick, so I don’t know if they believed me? I don’t know, but they insisted on coming to check on me or something, so..” He said.

”Why didn’t you stop them!?” Jimmy said.

Johnny raised his hands in mock surrender. ”I tried!!”

”Not hard enough! Can’t you just tell them not to come?” Jimmy said, voice raising slightly, although still much more quiet then he would’ve liked.

”They’re already coming.” 

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

”..hide?” Johnny said quietly.

Jimmy quirked an eyebrow. “Are you really that dumb?”

”No! Yes? I don’t know! Just, don’t you have, like, a bat form, or something?” He said.

“Yeah, why?”

”Couldn’t you just use that to hide better?”

”No.”

”Why not?”

”Take a good long look at me, and guess.” Jimmy said. He’d tried to shift yesterday so he’d be harder to spot in the darkness, and he couldn’t, so no matter how convenient it would be, that wasn’t an option.

”Maybe you could just... lay on the floor and pretend to be dead.” Johnny said.

How stupid could a single person get? “That wouldn’t help anything. Even if it did work, don’t you think they’d wonder why you have an actual dead body in your living room?”

Johnny looked away. “...Maybe they’d just ignore it?”

”Shut up, I hear something.” Jimmy said, lowering his voice, and holding his breath to pick out the sound. It was footsteps. Two sets. His heartrate spiked, and he fought the urge to dig his nails into his palms. They were close. Like, knocking on the door close. Shit.

Johnny looked up, and cursed under his breath. He went over the door, apparently just going to let them in no matter consequences, and opened it.

Something brushed past him so quickly neither of them had time to process it, almost pushed Johnny over, and startled Jimmy so much he jumped three feet in the air, and hit the now much bigger ground with a chirp. Apparently he could still shift. Great.

The something that had startled him enough to make it happen, now stood over him, head tilted, mouth half open like he was about to say something, and was shocked into silence. He probably was, actually.

The second pair of footsteps entered much more slowly, and came to stand over him as well. “....a bat?” He asked, and Johnny, who the question was apparently directed to, nodded, realized that was stupid, and was about to answer verbally, when the first one let out a squeal, and bounced in place.

”IT’S SO CUTE!!! Can I pet it? How’d you get it? What happened to it’s wing? Oh! does it have a name?!?” He said, still bouncing. Before Johnny could answer, he bent down, got on his knees, and reached a hand, trying to touch him.

Jimmy squeaked, purely because he was a bat, and not at all because it scared him, and dodged out of the way. He was reached for again, and darted forwards, fitting himself firmly under the couch.

”..he uh, doesn’t like strangers very much, you’ll have to let him get used to you before you can ,um, pet him.” Johnny said, in the most suspicious voice possible.

”Aw, man. I hope I didn’t scare him.” Said the one who’d very much scared him, who was now pressing his freckled face against the floor, trying too see him.

”Is that what you wanted to show us?” Said the other one.

”Yeah, I um.. got him a few days ago.” Johnny said. He was a really bad liar, wasn’t he?

Jimmy spent the next several hours hiding under the couch, torn wings over his ears, having a mild aneurysm. Somehow, he wasn’t entirely surprised that Johnny’s only two friends were as annoying as they could possibly be, especially the one that tried to grab him, he just wondered what he’d done to deserve just hearing them speak being the third closest thing to hell he’d ever experienced. Spooker, or Fred, he’d been called both, was loud, excitable, and as far as he could tell, physically unable to stop talking. The other one, Colon maybe? Wasn’t much better. He wasn’t nearly as loud, but he still managed to talk almost as much, sneaking in questions, and comments, and gibberish, in between sentences, or when Spooker had to pause to take a breath. Johnny, or Toast, as they insisted on calling him, barely had a chance to speak, even if trying to answer questions. If Jimmy currently had hands, he could count how many times he spoke on one of them.

They went on and on for what seemed like hours, and the words devolved with his understanding of them, until they were a droning noise, but instead of fading into the background, they filled his consciousness, and left it blank of anything else. Although it might’ve had something to do with the numb exhaustion that kept him glued to the spot. He might’ve been tempted to go up and chase them out so he could keep slowly dying in piece, but that was a lot less appealing then closing his eyes, and pretending they didn’t exist, and this was some sort of very weird migraine. It didn’t really work, but atleast it stopped the rising sun from melting his eyes.

He woke up. Which meant he’d fallen asleep again, but before he could even begin to process it, he saw something big, alive, and directly infront of him. He jumped back, a sort of hissing-squeak escaping him before he could stop it.

”Guys! Look! He’s awake!” Said the vague outline infront of him. Jimmy blinked hard, trying to see past the spots in his eyes. The vague outline turned into a slightly less vague face, pressed against the floor, and only partially visible. A single green eye starred at him with something in between awe, and pure joy. It was slightly familiar, as was the voice, but he couldn’t quite pick out where he’d seen it before.

”He is? What’s he doing?” Said another muffled, but even more familiar voice. One that, after some thought, he could place.

”Not much..he’s just starring at me.” Said who he now recognized as Spooker. He hiss-squeaked at him again, this time deliberately, and shuffled so he was further under the couch, and facing the other direction. He was going to die, but he definitely wasn’t going to do it infront of him. Or anyone like him, for that matter.

“Maybe I could reach him-“ Spooker said, and Jimmy heard him start to reach under the couch, and was getting ready to turn and snap at him, when a loud, sharp, musical, noise startled both of them. There was a shuffling sound, as Spooker scrambled to get up.

”Crap, my mom’s calling.” He said, and the musical noise that grated harshly against Jimmy’s more sensitive hearing finally stopped, and he vaguely heard Spooker walking away, mumbling something.

He didn’t try to listen, though he could’ve. He had no idea how Spooker was talking to his mom when she wasn’t there, but he’d heard enough about newer technology to know he wasn’t lying. Besides, the numbing exhaustion was already returning, and he couldn’t muster up the will to fight it. 

The sharp smell of blood roused him, like a hot knife cutting through his thin wings. He was reluctant to open his eyes, remembering the sting of the sunlight, even in the shadows, but when he did, he found it wasn’t there. Which meant it was night. He decided to take relief in that, pushing away the fear from the realization that he’d fallen asleep for what must’ve been hours, and forced his body to move, crawling out from under the couch.

It took a second for him to understand exactly what he was seeing. Johnny was standing by the table, his body angled in such a way that he was partly blocking Jimmy’s view. He could still see what he was doing though. He held a thin blade, glittering in the low light, and was pressing it against his finger. He pressed a little harder, and the smell of blood became overwhelming. Jimmy’s vision went a little fuzzy, as he gagged on air, and covered his nose and mouth with a wing, but through it, he could still hear Johnny wince quietly, put down the blade, and move his dripping fingers over a cup. Jimmy closed his eyes, pinned back his ears, and tried not to breathe. He’d always hated the smell of blood. One would think that needing it to survive would change that, but all it really did was heighten his awareness of it. It was no longer something he could just ignore, his tuned senses brought it to the forefront, until he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was ironic as it was annoying.

A yelp startled his eyes open, as well as gave him something else to focus on. He looked up, and locked eyes with Johnny, who looked just as startled, but recovered quickly. “Hi... I was just..” He looked lost for a second, trying to find the words, until he turned, and held up the cup.

Jimmy starred at it, unable to look away, even as he listened to Johnny stumble out a better explanation. 

“I uh...wanted to..help you, I guess.” He said.

That got Jimmy to look up. Help him? Why? How? How would willingly hurting himself help- The smell of blood clouded the thoughts from his mind, and he realized the cup had been moved closer, held directly under his nose. As if it was for him. Oh.

Johnny placed it on the floor infront of him when he didn’t move, and stood back. “Take it.” He said, when Jimmy still didn’t move.

It was a bright scarlet against the muted colors. Blood. Brighter, and thinner, than his own, or what was left of it, and sitting infront of him, ready for him to take it. The smell was even more overwhelming, sharp, metallic, making him want to throw up on the spot, despite his empty stomach, but at the edge there was something sweeter. Foreign, but not unwelcome. He wanted to hesitate. Wanted to push it over, or flee the room, or regain the ability to fly, jump up, and claw at Johnny’s hair until he ran away. Instead, he slowly climbed onto the glass, steadying himself with his claws, and reached his head inside.

It was gone in a flash, and he sat inside it, licking the remnants from his fur, and the bottom of the glass. Once there was no trace of it left, he looked up, and saw Johnny sitting on the other side of the room, squinting despite the light coming from a small device next to him, similar to the one Spooker had talked to his mom with. He was trying to bandage the small cut he’d given himself, and from the looks of it, failing miserably. Jimmy climbed out of the glass, and with the small bit of strength he’d recovered, managed to shift without a problem. Quietly, too, as Johnny hadn’t noticed at all. 

Jimmy watched him struggle for a few more seconds, before knocking once on the table, startling him out of it. 

“Hi.” Johnny said, once the shock had warn off, and turned back to his task.

”....what are you doing?” Jimmy asked, voice still raspy and quiet, but clear enough to be heard in the near silence.

Johnny looked up. “Uh..bandaging myself?”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Not very well.”

Johnny glared slightly. “I know.” He said, and kept trying.

Jimmy hesitated, and slowly walked over to him, shaking the whole way, and getting dizzy when he first stood up. He sat next to him, spent the next moment recovering, and watched him undo yet another failed attempt.

“..can I help?” He said, and Johnny eyed him, but nodded. Jimmy took the bandage, and after realizing he hadn’t, put it down, and gently cleaned the cut with disinfectant, making sure to touch him as little as possible. Once that was done, he grabbed the bandage, and wrapped it securely around his finger, before moving to the far end of the couch, and pulling his knees in. Johnny examined the cut, and then turned to look at him, smiling softly.

”Thank you.” He said, and Jimmy couldn’t meet his eyes.

”...your welcome, I guess.” He mumbled.

“No, really, you didn’t have to do that.” He said.

Jimmy really couldn’t think of a response then. The next few moments passed in silence, and he was hoping it would stay that way, when Johnny broke it again.

”..I was wondering, you don’t really have anywhere to go, do you?” He said.

Jimmy shook his head. Technically a lie, but it wasn’t like he could get there in his current state either way, and if he did, he’d probably just lay on the floor until he died instead of trying to stop it.

”Ok, well, your welcome to stay here until your strong enough to leave.” He said.

Jimmy looked at him, searching for any sign of a lie, more on reflex then anything else, but he was sincere as ever.

”You don’t have too, and you could leave at any time if you want too, but I recommend you atleast come here during the day.” He said, and sounded just as honest as before.

Jimmy almost scoffed. It wasn’t like he even could leave, atleast not now, and it would take quite a while for him to be able to go less then five steps out the door without collapsing. Instead, he nodded. It was genuine, even if he felt like he was being mocked, and being a jerk would just make him feel bad, no matter the reason.

Besides, Johnny had been nice to him, almost ridiculously so, the nicest anyone had been to him since he was turned, if he remembered right, and it would take some getting used too, but maybe staying here wouldn’t be so bad.


	7. Frozen koolaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self harm, cutting, self harm scars, confrontation about recent self harm, though there isn’t really much conflict. Please tell me if I should add any more, especially with this topic.

Ghost didn’t like Spooker. That was a fact. He was loud, and excitable, and didn’t know how to shut up. He grated on his nerves, and Ghost was sure that if Toast wasn’t there to hold him back, he would’ve killed him by now.

He was still worried about him.

Ghost wasn’t one to get into people’s business. He had his own secrets, and intended to keep them, and while he knew not everyone was quite as private as he was, he felt extremely uncomfortable when he thought about snooping through someone’s private life. Hypocrisy wasn’t a good look.

He still noticed things. Not on purpose, never on purpose, but he was observant. Perceptive. He had heightened senses, and anxiety, and there wasn’t a better combination for finding out things you weren’t looking for.

He’d noticed the scars just a few days after Spooker officially joined the team. He wore almost exclusively long sleeves, which would’ve been suspicious if it hadn’t been winter at the time. All he’d done was babble, and he’d been in the middle of a very hard to follow story, raising his arms in triumph, at what seemed the end. Ghost didn’t remember the story, he hadn’t been paying attention to it, reading something on his phone. The movement had drawn his eye, and for just a moment, he’d seen them. Small, straight, whitish scars peeked out from Spooker’s loosened sleeve. 

His hands had dropped right after, and Ghost had caught a few more glimpses of them, but he hadn’t said anything. It wasn’t any of his business, and he knew first hand how traumatic it could be for someone to notice something like that when you didn’t want them too, and based on his attempts to hide them, and lack of mention, Spooker didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want to say anything either, really, none of them were fresh, and Spooker atleast seemed fine, so there wasn’t need too, and he wasn’t at all curious to know what had happened to the most bubbly person he’d ever met to cause it, not that he felt pity for him. He was just a normal person, one who annoyed him, at that, and he didn’t care either way if he had self harm scars or not, he still didn’t like his stupid puns.

Then he’d come to work just a little paler, with a bandage on his wrist, poorly hidden by the sleeve, and Ghost started to worry. He didn’t seem much different then the day before, and he doubted the other team members even noticed, but he was just a little more subdued, and just a little harder to get him to smile.

In the end, Ghost still hadn’t said anything, but he’d taken care to be a little nicer, make his normal teasing a little less spiteful, and if he had to hide a smile or two, when he’d gotten Spooker to laugh, no one seemed to notice.

The bandage was gone in a few days, and Ghost was hoping it’d be the last, even though he knew for a fact how hard it was to stop once you started again.

He’d been right to worry, too, as just a week later, there were a few more bandages, and a lot more quiet restlessness. Spooker shifting, and fidgeting, and scratching gently at his palms, in a very familiar way, trying to push away the itch in a way that only made it worse.

”You alright? You look a little pale.” Toast said, squinting at Spooker, who tensed, and eyed the floor.

”I’m fine.” He said, practiced words rolling off his tongue. “Just tired, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” That was probably true, and it’d be enough to convince Toast, and Colon, who nodded slowly, and continued the conversation, but Ghost wasn’t fooled. He knew the signs.

After another few minutes of watching him absentmindedly scratch at his hands, not even noticing when a few red streaks appeared, Ghost stood up, grabbed him by the hood, and dragged him to another room.

Spooker stumbled after him, Toast an Colon pausing to watch, equally bewildered. He shut the door firm enough to make a point, without slamming it, and dragged Spooker a little more gently through a hallway, and into an empty room.

The door didn’t lock, so he pressed against it to keep it from moving, blocking the exit with his arms crossed. Enough intimidation to keep Spooker from lying, without terrifying him out of his mind. Hopefully.

”....uh...” Spooker said, and his mouth hung open like he was ready to say something, but didn’t know what it was.

”Show me.” Ghost said, feeling bad for the harsh approach, but not knowing another way of going about it. He needed to know if Spooker was okay, and if he didn’t show he wouldn’t take no for an answer, Spooker wouldn’t tell him.

He tensed instantly, curling in on himself, his hand lifting to touch the hidden bandage. “...sh...show you what?” He said, and Ghost forced down the emotions that rose at the fear in his voice, just barely keeping it from his face. He couldn’t show it yet.

”You know what I mean.” He said.

They stared at eachother.

Spooker looked away, took a deep breath, and held out his right arm.

Ghost dropped the act, as much as he thought he could, and came over to him. The door creaked gently open. No need for that anymore.

He glanced at Spooker’s face, but it was blank, and his eyes were still closed, giving nothing away. Gently, he pulled back the sleeve, and let go, avoiding touching him as much as possible, as much for Spooker’s sake as his own. The bandages were wrapped a little loosely, a little messily, but it was enough he didn’t have to change them, and that was good. He didn’t want to do anything he didn’t have too.

He stepped back. “Okay.” He said. “Is that all of them?” He almost hadn’t asked, but the whole point of this was making sure Spooker was okay, and he wouldn’t know if he didn’t see all of them.

Spooker looked up, finally, and starred at him. “...you aren’t going too..?” He said, trailing off, quiet, and confused.

Ghost blinked, and tried very hard not to wonder what had caused that assumption. Hopefully not anything he’d done, he’d been as careful as he could.

”No.” He said. “I only would’ve seen them if I needed to change the bandages, but they seem fine, and even if I did, I’d ask you first.”

Spooker looked relieved, although still a little unsure. He nodded his head. “That’s all of them.”

Ghost nodded. “Okay.”

They starred at eachother for a moment. After a fairly awkward eternity, Spooker shifted, and looked away, eyeing his wrist, and then the floor. He bit his lip, and clenched his fists, and from what Ghost could tell, he was trying very, very, hard not to hurt himself.

He sighed. ”Wait here.” He said, leaving before he could see his reaction, and heading straight for his office. He didn’t use it much, but he had a freezer, and he remembered putting some of them in there, just in case something happened when he was up there, or alone in the building, or just unable to deal with anyone at the time. He suspected Toast knew, he’d caught a glimpse of them when he walked in unexpectedly. Something that was normally practically impossible, but Ghost had been...distracted, and hadn’t heard him coming. He atleast hoped he knew, if he’d really seen them. Something bright red, and frozen, could just as well be an organ, rather than some harmless dyed ice cubes, and both where pretty in character for Ghost, but he hadn’t been asked about any murdered randos recently, so it was probably fine.

He got there in record time, not even realizing he’d started running, until he stopped, and by then he was panting like he hadn’t stopped all the way there. It didn’t really matter, though, couldn’t be stopped now, and he pushed the door open, and checked the freezer with his fingers crossed. There were a few there, luckily, and he gathered them in a cup, before rushing back, albeit at a more reasonable pace.

He knocked gently on the door, before pushing it open. Startling Spooker would do absolutely no good, especially if he fell on his injured arm.

”..what’s that?” Spooker asked, as soon as he came in, curious, despite his distress.

Ghost showed him, rather than explaining, sitting next to his spot on the floor, and pulling one out. He squeezed it, and tried very hard not to focus on the feeling, or the bright red drip that ran through his fingers. Spooker watched. Ghost handed it to him, maybe a little hastily, and Spooker tilted his head, glancing warily at him, before squeezing it. After a moment, dyed water dripped into his palm, and recognition flashed across his face. He looked up at Ghost, and squeezed it tighter.

”....how’d you know?” He said, and he could be talking about the bandages, or the ice, or the answer to the crossword puzzle he’d gotten stuck on yesterday, but either way, besides the last one, the answer was the same.

After a moment, he sighed, closed his eyes, and rolled up his sleeve. It wasn’t by much, but it was enough, and he pulled it back down as quickly as he thought he could, and held his breath to calm his racing heart.

He looked at Spooker, some irrational part of him expecting disgust, anger, fear, but all he saw was solemn understanding. The somber expression conflicting harshly with the image he’d built in his head. Of ridiculous jokes, and constant rambling, and huge, childish, grins, but he knew enough to tell when someone was faking, and most of that wasn’t. This was just a side he hadn’t seen before.

It was less annoying, for sure, but he thought he preferred the other one.

”.....can I eat these?” Spooker said, pulling him out of his head. He was studying the ice cubes like they were completely alien.

“...yeah.” He said.

Spooker ate one, and a familiar grin spread across his face. “It’s koolaid!” He said, and shoved in five more before he had the chance to swallow.

Ghost laughed, and stole one for himself before they all disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that using colored ice cubes is an alternative, but I don’t think anyone actually uses koolaid. I also don’t have much personal experience with self harm, so if I did something wrong, or offensive, please tell me, and I’ll do my best to correct it.


End file.
